Page 195 - the-three-musketeers

‘Madame de Chevreuse was not queen,’ murmured Anne
of Austria, overcome, in spite of herself, by the expression of
so profound a passion.
‘You would love me, then, if you were not queen! Ma-
dame, say that you would love me then! I can believe that it
is the dignity of your rank alone which makes you cruel to
me; I can believe that you had been Madame de Chevreuse,
poor Buckingham might have hoped. Thanks for those
sweet words! Oh, my beautiful sovereign, a hundred times,
thanks!’
‘Oh, my Lord! You have ill understood, wrongly inter-
preted; I did not mean to say—‘
‘Silence, silence!’ cried the duke. ‘If I am happy in an
error, do not have the cruelty to lift me from it. You have
told me yourself, madame, that I have been drawn into a
snare; I, perhaps, may leave my life in it—for, although it
may be strange, I have for some time had a presentiment
that I should shortly die.’ And the duke smiled, with a smile
at once sad and charming.
‘Oh, my God!’ cried Anne of Austria, with an accent of
terror which proved how much greater an interest she took
in the duke than she ventured to tell.
‘I do not tell you this, madame, to terrify you; no, it is
even ridiculous for me to name it to you, and, believe me,
I take no heed of such dreams. But the words you have just
spoken, the hope you have almost given me, will have richly
paid all—were it my life.’
‘Oh, but I,’ said Anne, ‘I also, duke, have had presenti-
ments; I also have had dreams. I dreamed that I saw you

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